Do You Believe in Miracles?

Despite the passage of many years, I still look upon my meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne as the single most significant moment in my nine years at Saint John's.  She came along at the exact moment when I was about to slide off the deep end. 

In the days before Mrs. Ballantyne's appearance, I was a walking time bomb so fragile that the slightest spark could have set me off.

Instead her kind words snapped me out of the downward spiral that could very easily have led to a catastrophic mistake in judgment. 

Mrs. Ballantyne's timing was so utterly perfect that I could not shake the feeling that it had to be an intentional act on her part.  I was almost certain she must have known something and come to rescue me. 

For years, I continued to ask myself if our 1968 encounter was a chance meeting or did Mrs. Ballantyne deliberately seek me out.  Despite all my reasoning, I just couldn't shake the feeling that my meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne was more than "just chance".  

I was in so much distress.  And then I was touched by an angel. There was such perfect timing to Mrs. Ballantyne's visit, it was like a miracle.  Her kindness cured me of a tremendous despair.  Her soft words released me from my tremendous rage.  She gave me hope that things would work out.  She bolstered my confidence.  She promised money would not be a problem.  Her prediction came true one month later when my scholarship appeared in the mail.  In a word, Mrs. Ballantyne's appearance was indeed a miracle.

Do you believe in miracles?  Do you believe in coincidences?

There is no one better to analyze what happened than me.  For my part, I don't like coincidences. I don't trust them one bit. 

My dislike of consequences started in Ninth grade English class.  Mr. Curran had us read a steady diet of Charles Dickens novels... David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, and Tale of Two Cities. 

It irritated me no end that in every story, Dickens used at least one or more "chance meetings" to further the plot.  I would scoff at the laziness of the writer.  Can't Charles Dickens think of better reason for these two people to run into each other than resort to some "coincidence" all the time?  

Coincidences are just too convenient for my skeptical mind.

And yet my meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne was easily the most dramatic "coincidence" of my entire life.

Even I will admit that just because I don't like coincidences doesn't mean they don't exist.

Earlier I spoke of the "odds" of our meeting.  I spoke of how I estimated our paths had crossed at SJS over 1,000 times during the course of my nine year career at the school.  It seems strange that not once did we speak in all those years only to meet somewhere totally different.  But that wasn't the only strange thing about that meeting.  There was an entire series of unlikely situations. 
 

Into the Twilight Zone On that fateful day I was much too confused to think straight.  But throughout our encounter I was nagged by the feeling that something weird was going on here. This was the woman I had admired from afar for 9 years. This was also the woman I blamed for costing me my scholarship.  It was bizarre that this woman whom I had admired for so long had somehow become directly involved in the most painful disappointment of my life. That was the first coincidence. Our meeting place was well off the beaten path.  I had never seen Mrs. Ballantyne at my store before. That was the second coincidence. The timing was unusual.  In 9 years we had never spoken. Yet one week after I had begun to resent Mrs. Ballantyne so much, we had accidentally met for the first time.  That was the third coincidence.  Two strangers spoke about deeply personal things for 20 minutes. How often does that happen?  The fact that what should have been a casual introduction marked by pleasantries turned into such a powerful conversation is a fourth coincidence.

To Mrs. Ballantyne's surprise, she realized she had just met a boy with a sad story strangely similar to own childhood.  This fifth coincidence is what made Mrs. Ballantyne take so much interest in me.  What were the odds that Mrs. Ballantyne would run into someone who shared such a unique story?

When one factors in the exquisite timing and critical importance of our meeting to me, then this series of coincidences become even more dramatic.

For many years, I had a great deal of trouble accepting that our meeting was an accident.  In fact, the first time I wrote about this encounter I still believed that Mrs. Ballantyne made a deliberate effort to seek me out.  That would certainly take a lot of the mystery out of this strange encounter. 

Unfortunately this possibility was contradicted by the fact that Mrs. Ballantyne clearly didn't recognize me in the checkout line.  Her blank stare when she looked directly at me meant she either had no idea who I was or she was pretending not to know me until we could talk in the parking lot.

The idea that she was faking not knowing me was absurd.  Why would a busy woman like Mrs. Ballantyne go to the extreme lengths of figuring out where I worked and when I worked, drive 2 miles out of her way to find me, and then pretend it was a chance meeting? 

That would have been totally out of character for a no-nonsense, very direct woman like Mrs. Ballantyne.

Our meeting was a total accident.  It had to be. 

Or Was it Fate?

There is perhaps another explanation.  Maybe it was Fate.  This wasn't a small coincidence. 

This was an incredible coincidence.

The ancient Greeks had no problem with Fate.  They believed the Gods were always interfering in the lives of Mortals.  Any casual reading of the Iliad shows that the Gods took sides and were constantly meddling in the course of the Trojan War.  The Odyssey shows how the powerful God Poseidon had no problem taking revenge on Odysseus for blinding his son Polyphemus the Cyclops.

The Hindu and Buddhist religions have no problem with Fate either.  Along with the twin concepts of Reincarnation and Karma, the idea of predestination - or Fate if you prefer - is a commonly accepted part of the human condition.  Some things are going to happen to you whether you like it or not.

I am just a mere mortal.  I have no gift of second sight and I have no proof to convince anyone that there is a Hidden Side to our existence.

That said, I have long been fascinated by the concept of "coincidence" my entire life. 

Although my meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne was certainly the most profound Coincidence of my life, I can rattle off at least six more chance meetings that almost as improbable and almost as suspicious.  At what point do I stop calling them Accidents? 

They say there is such a thing as guardian angels.  Unfortunately I have no first-hand knowledge of any guardian angels.  

However, if guardian angels do exist, is it possible that my guardian angel realized how much trouble I was in and decided to guide Mrs. Ballantyne, the single best person on earth capable of solving my problem, to come see me?

This is a very interesting possibility.  It might just be that a metaphysical explanation is the one that makes the most sense of all.
 

A MEDITATION ON COINCIDENCE “A Coincidence is a small miracle in which God chooses to remain anonymous.”  Unknown “Coincidence is the word we use when we can't see the levers and pulleys.”  Emma Bull "Coincidences are God's way of remaining anonymous."  Doris Lessing "When you live your life with an appreciation of Coincidences and their meanings, you connect with the underlying field of infinite possibilities."         Deepak Chopra "The more frequently one uses the word ‘Coincidence’ to explain bizarre happenings, the more obvious it becomes that one is not seeking, but rather evading the real explanation."            Robert Shea & Robert Anton Wilson

2005 - A New Meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne

Shorty after I wrote the first draft of this story in 2005, out of the blue Mrs. Ballantyne called me on the phone.  This was third time in my life that Mrs. Ballantyne had appeared out of nowhere to surprise me.  She certainly has her way of sneaking up on me!

However this time her 2005 phone call was no coincidence.  There was a very good explanation for her phone call.  Mrs. Ballantyne said that one of her granddaughters had accidentally come across this story on my website doing a Google Search.  The granddaughter was so excited.  She couldn't wait to tell her grandmother!

Mrs. Ballantyne said that her granddaughter's discovery had intrigued her.  She went to her computer and found my story.  Mrs. Ballantyne thanked me.  She said she was very flattered to receive such kind words from me. 

I assured her I meant every word I said. 

At that point, Mrs. Ballantyne invited me to meet her for lunch. 

Naturally I asked Mrs. Ballantyne what she remembered about the chance meeting in the parking lot 40 years earlier.

Mrs. Ballantyne began with a surprise of her own.  She said that back in the old days she had always watched me too.  She had noticed that I always seemed to be studying her from some corner of a room at Saint John's.  Over the years, she liked to look and see if her secret admirer was anywhere around.  For a long time she never really knew who I was, but she knew I was always watching.  It wasn't until high school that she became aware I was a classmate of Katina's. 

This revelation embarrassed me.  I didn't realize I was that obvious, but then kids always think they are a lot sneakier than they turn out to be. 

I was also surprised to discover that Mrs. Ballantyne and I had a connection ahead of time. I should have known better.  I don't think Mrs. Ballantyne misses a thing.  I think that once she finally recognized who I was in the parking lot, she decided this was the perfect opportunity to get to know her 'secret admirer'.  That would explain why there was such an immediate depth to our conversation. 

As we continued our 2005 conversation, Mrs. Ballantyne began to talk about the Saint John's years.  She said she had always guessed that I was in pain from the unhappy look on my face.  Mrs. Ballantyne said she had great empathy for me in the parking lot because she herself had led a very secluded and stressful life as a teenager.  My years as the outsider looking in at Saint Johns reminded her very much of her own difficulties growing up.

Her 2005 recollections took me very much by surprise.  I had no idea she even knew I existed at Saint John's beforehand.  After all, that one conversation in the parking lot was the first and only time I ever spoke with her during my nine years at SJS.  

I also suspect Mrs. Ballantyne gave me so much precious extra time that day because she knew a lot more about me that day than she let on.  However, as we spoke in the restaurant, I did not wish to pry.  Even though I still had at least 20 burning questions, out of respect for my benefactor, I decided not to pry about the details of the past. 

 

2009 - Another Meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne

In 2009 I ran into Mrs. Ballantyne again.  Her son Christie was taking a dance lesson from me and brought his mother along.  I think Mrs. Ballantyne wanted to come say hello and see how I was doing.   In the course of the conversation, Mrs. Ballantyne told me she kept my story bookmarked on her computer.  I felt an overwhelming fondness for her.  What a nice compliment! 

As we sat next to each other, I reached for her hand.  Now we began a lovely chat.

Mrs. Ballantyne brought up the issue of Katina's Jones Scholarship again.   She repeated exactly what she had told me forty years earlier.  Mrs. Ballantyne said she was constantly scrounging around for any financial help she could find to help make ends meet.  She added it was hard to explain, but the task of sending seven children to expensive private schools and colleges was overwhelming. 

She was so apologetic, I swear I wanted to hug her!  Good grief, we cleared this up forty years ago.  Besides, I completely understood.  After sending my daughter to Duchesne for 14 years, I had first-hand knowledge of my own about the difficulties of handling private school tuition.

Mrs. Ballantyne focused on her own memories of our encounter. 

 Mrs. Ballantyne began by saying she still remembered the day when she asked her friend Charlie what he knew about me. 

"Her friend Charlie..." 

My ears perked up.  Did I really hear what I thought I had just heard?  "Charlie" was the name Mr. Salls went by with his friends!

Mrs. Ballantyne recalled that she and Mr. Salls were sitting in her living room.

"Charlie", i.e. Mr. Salls, had told her I was a pretty good student.  Then he added he often worried about me.  He explained my history at the school to her, then remarked that he had heard from one of my teachers that my home situation was pretty miserable. 

I listened in quiet surprise.  I had suspected that Mrs. Ballantyne and Mr. Salls knew each other pretty well, but I had no idea they were this close.  I had long suspected that they spoke often at Saint John's, but this was the first time I had ever learned that they were best friends.  Oh, for heaven's sakes!   No one tells me anything.

This confirmed that Mrs. Ballantyne had a direct pipeline to my silent benefactor all along.  Mrs. Ballantyne had been completely wired in to all the secret wheeling and dealings at my school from the start.  Amazing.

If anything, this added to the growing list of coincidences involved with our parking lot conversation.

This meant out of all the people in the world to bump into on that fateful day in March 1968, I had met the woman who was the direct confidant of Mr. Salls, my unknown benefactor.  It's a small world, isn't it?

As we sat on the couch, Mrs. Ballantyne switched gears and began to talk about Mr. Salls.  I listened with fascination as Mrs. Ballantyne described her friend to me.  As I have written, Mr. Salls seemed like such a stern man.  I was certainly scared to death of him.  However, when Mrs. Ballantyne spoke of him, I realized she knew a warm side to Mr. Salls that I was never privileged to see.  

With that gruff, gravely voice and fierce demeanor, Mr. Salls seemed pretty tough on the outside.  However, Mrs.  Ballantyne knew Mr. Salls as a kind man who deeply cared about his school and took his responsibilities to his students seriously. 

I had to laugh.  Who would have ever guessed Mr. Salls was a softy!  And so down to earth! 

Gosh, during my Saint John's days, Mrs. Ballantyne and Mr. Salls were Olympic Deities to me.  They were Hera and Zeus.  I wonder why it was so hard for me as a kid to imagine they were normal people when they weren't on center stage at Saint John's.

Furthermore, I wondered why I had never guessed that Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne were close friends.  It certainly made sense.  I had seen them walking together enough times in the hallways at Saint John's during my secret scouting missions.  In fact, I later discovered that the Salls family and the Ballantyne family had neighboring beach homes in West Galveston.  Obviously the two families were very close.

I began to smile.  Mrs. Ballantyne had indirectly confirmed the identity of my unseen benefactor at Saint John's. 

Of course it was Mr. Salls. 

This meant my biggest hunch was right all along.  "I promise you things will work out."  No wonder Mrs. Ballantyne had spoken with such confidence.  I would bet money Mrs. Ballantyne already knew about my upcoming scholarship to Hopkins.  That's why at the end of our fateful meeting she began to whisper.  Mrs. Ballantyne knew she had no business revealing this secret ahead of time, but she still wanted to say something that would give me hope before she left. 

Believe me, I am glad she did!

As Mrs. Ballantyne and I continued to talk, other ancient mystery came unraveled.  I gave me great satisfaction to confirm another long-time hunch. When Mrs. Ballantyne and Mr. Salls had discussed the Jones Scholarship for Katina, he did indeed talk to her about me.  He told her about his plan for my scholarship to Hopkins.  Mr. Salls understood that it would be more difficult for Katina, the daughter of a prominent doctor, to obtain a scholarship than the poorest kid in the school who just happened to be a very good student.  Since Mr. Salls had control over the Jones scholarship, why not give it to Katina to help pay her expensive college tuition at Vanderbilt?   Then, after that, he would call his good friend Ralph O'Connor and tell him he had a young man in mind who had the potential to be a great student at Hopkins, but needed help. This would be a way that Mr. Salls could take care of not just one, but two deserving students.  I smiled.  Mr. Salls was certainly quite the mastermind.  He made sure everybody was covered!  He took care of Katina, he took care of me, and no doubt he took care of many other deserving Saint John's students as well.

My mind drifted to another subject.  Mrs. Ballantyne indicated that "Charlie" had heard from one of my teachers that my home situation was pretty miserable.  That had to be Mr. Curran.  He was only person I confided to that you.  This meant that Mr. Salls was far more aware of my home situation than I realized. 

So who let me off the hook when I cheated on my German exam?  Who let me off the hook when I stole that gym equipment? 

Who else could it be?  Who else had that kind of authority? 

It had to be Mr. Salls.

There was a disciplinary council at Saint John's where a group of men met to decide how to handle serious incidents like my own.  I have little doubt some of these men recommended that I be punished.  In cases where there were disagreements on how to approach a serious problem, Mr. Salls would surely have the final word. 

Oh how I wish Mr. Salls wasn't so damn inscrutable!!  If he had shared even the most simple words about the Jones Scholarship situation, I would never have gone so close to the deep end to begin with.  Thank goodness my guardian angel sent Mrs. Ballantyne my way or I really could have lost it all.  I can only assume that Mr. Salls was a very busy man and did not realize how much energy I had on the Jones Scholarship to begin with.  He had no idea what was going through my mind.

I now believe that Mr. Salls liked me more than I ever realized.  Lord knows he never showed it.  I suppose he respected me for how hard I worked in his class for three years.  I was one of his best German students not because I had the greatest talent, but rather because I tried so hard.  In addition, as Assistant Headmaster, Mr. Salls had followed my career at the school for all nine years far more closely than I had any reason to believe.  He knew how pitiful my home life was.  There could be only one explanation for his gentle approach to me - Compassion.  Yes, I screwed up bad in my Senior year.  Not once, but twice.  Both times he let me off the hook.  Poor Mr. Salls.  Oh, my goodness, he had gone to all that trouble to arrange my scholarship and here I was making such an enormous fool of myself.  No good deed goes unpunished! I must have tried Mr. Salls' patience dearly.  I can only surmise that after Mr. Salls had worked so hard in my behalf, he was determined not to let me to fail.  So that Spring he decided to intercede on my behalf not once, but twice.   Thank goodness Mr. Salls believed in me. Mr. Salls was the Wizard of St. John's who mysteriously guided the fortunes of many young men and women from behind his thick curtain.  Through his genius, he was able to help keep so many of us pointed in the right direction.  I bet my story is just one of many fascinating tales. I firmly believe that if enough St. John's students from that era came forward to share their own stories of Mr. Salls, a remarkable picture of this remarkable man would surely emerge.

A Deeper Importance I love this story because it is the closest thing to a religious experience I have ever had. I do not go to church.  I do not read the Bible.  As a rule, I don't pray.  Nor do I see ghosts, burning bushes or parting seas.  But so help me God, in my heart I can't shake the feeling that Mrs. Ballantyne was sent by someone to put me out of my suffering.  There is no other explanation that makes any sense to me. What if this meeting really was created by a hidden hand? The easiest way for me to explain the impact of her visit would be to compare it to Clarence, the angel in Jimmy Stewart's "Wonderful Life".  Clarence was sent to help George Bailey in his hour of greatest need.  For that single moment in my life, I needed Mrs. Ballantyne as much as George Bailey needed Clarence. Our strange encounter literally changed my life.  There is a scene in Ben Hur where Ben Hur is given water by Jesus at a time of great crisis.  In my hour of need, I responded the same way a kicked and wounded dog would to the kind soul who offers water, food and a gentle touch.  That is how important this healing event was to me.  Mrs. Ballantyne's kindness gave my flagging spirits a giant lift.  Not only did I stop worrying about college tuition, I also let go of the destructive bitterness I felt towards my classmates.  My talk with Mrs. Ballantyne opened my eyes to the possibility that many people at Saint John's were actually very nice.  Now as the two of us we sat on the couch, there was something I wanted to tell Mrs. Ballantyne before our conversation ended.  I wanted to tell Mrs. Ballantyne how much I had admired her during my years at Saint Johns.
As a kid who was very lonely, I often watched her go about her business with a fascination.  It meant so much to that the single person at Saint John's that I had admired the most had taken the time to compliment me in the parking lot that day. It isn't often that someone on the top rung of the ladder reaches down to pat the shoulder of the person on the bottom rung.  I told Mrs. Ballantyne I would always remember her fondly for her special moment of kindness to me.  Her healing words that day had a tremendous impact in my life. Then I told her I often fantasized how different my life at Saint Johns would have been if I had only had a mother like her. Mrs. Ballantyne smiled.  She said I was very kind to give her so much credit.  She said she never quite understood the connection she felt for me, but she was touched to know how important our chance meeting had been to me.  Mrs. Ballantyne added that any mother would have been proud of a kid like me who tried so hard to overcome adversity.
I was 59 years old as she spoke, but I swear I choked up just like I was a lonely 18 year old kid again. It saddens me to admit that I had so little respect for my own mother that I gave a total stranger like Mrs. Ballantyne such mythical importance.  It is a testimony to Mrs. Ballantyne that she handled my puppy-dog admiration for her with such grace and understanding.  Another person with less compassion might easily have written me off as a creepy loser kid. But then I imagine I wouldn't have been attracted to person with less compassion.  My fascination with Mrs. Ballantyne was no accident. Mrs. Ballantyne is a great woman.  I feel privileged to have had the chance to meet her and get to know her.  I think it is amazing that a woman with seven children of her own, 23 grand-children and 5 great grand-children has the room in her heart to worry about other kids as well, even kids like me who are 59!    This has been the story of how a 20 minute talk in a parking lot made all the difference in the world to me. Mrs. Ballantyne gentle words helped me overcome a terrible crisis. It has also been the story of how many people came along at times in my life to point me in the right direction when I was about to lose my way. Someday I am going to come across a kid who clearly needs a lift.  Perhaps I will know the child well or maybe just barely.  And when I get my opportunity, I hope a few kind words and suggestions of my own will have the same healing effect that Mrs. Ballantyne's conversation had on me many many years ago.  I will do this because I have learned the power of a simple act of kindness.

The message of It's a Wonderful Life is that even the best person can stumble. 

The movie demonstrates the disturbing consequences if someone's life were to take a turn for the worse.

However, if there is someone around willing to pick him up, he can go on to do good things. 

I told Marla I wrote this story to show people why it is so important to lend a helping hand to a child when the opportunity presents itself.

The story of my years at Saint John's illustrates how a series of people - Mr. Chidsey, so many of my teachers like Mr. Curran, Dr. Mendel, Mr. Griffey the grocery store manager who took a big chance on me, Mr. Salls, Mr. O'Connor and finally the wonderful Mrs. Ballantyne - reached out to keep a lonely kid from spiraling out of control. 

Each of these people helped me without any expectation of a reward.  They helped me because they were humanitarians.  They did it because they were caretakers who saw a struggling kid who needed help.  No one can read this story and deny I was headed in the wrong direction on many occasions.  I was an angry kid full of hate.  Without their help, who knows how much trouble I would have gotten into?
 
Instead, thanks in large part to these people, I was an underdog who was given a chance.  I crawled out my early hole and went on to become a caretaker myself.  Through my dance studio, I was able to help countless people form lasting friendships.

I was determined to avoid the mistakes of my own parents.  I was a vigilant and responsible parent who raised a great daughter.  Recognizing the role Saint John's played in my life, I sent Sam to Duchesne Academy here in Houston for 14 years and then on to college at the University of Texas.  She graduated with honors in 2013.

I grew up to become a model citizen.  I have no debt.  I pay my bills on time.  I pay my taxes on time.  I have never been in trouble with the law.  I created a dance studio on my own that was the largest of its kind in America at the time.  I did my best to run my business in an ethical way.  Every day of my life I have tried to show that I was worth the gamble of those kind people who went to bat for me.

Being a good father, a loving husband, and a credit to society is my way of saying thank you to all those people who took such a big chance on a messed up kid long ago.